


Fitz's Inferno

by Gabriels_Mourning



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dante's Inferno sort of, Deep Blue Sea Stuff, F/M, Fitzsimmons getting nasty, Leo and Jemma getting together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriels_Mourning/pseuds/Gabriels_Mourning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz needs fixing, and Ward has a lead on how to do it.  But he has a price, which might be just too high for Skye.  <br/>When things start to spiral downward for Fitz, he doesn't know what's real and what's not, and what he's going through is equal parts pleasure and pain, until things get really dark.  <br/>Starts and Ends with SkyWard, but I'll be honest, the main story here is obviously Fitzsimmons, just with some SHIELD shenanigans to round it all out.  </p>
<p>Set post Season 2 opener, any continuity errors, please forgive, because I haven't actually gotten a chance to SEE much of it yet...  In fact, any errors at all, really, sorry for!</p>
<p>As always, comments and kudos appreciated!  <br/>Legal Jargon blah blah blah, not my characters, Hail Joss, rada rada rada...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Circle Zero, Skyward Spiral.

Skye sipped at her drink and kicked her legs to the sound of the music. She was dressed in a bright blue dress that curved around the swell of her rear and cupped her cheeks so that sitting was a risk. But the high heels she wore made the risk worth taking. Her long sleeves hugged her wrists and felt strange, but at the same time, she was glad for the bare shouldered look, showing off the hours in the weights room she’d been putting in.  Thoughts of those workouts led her to clench her fists to avoid the ear piece she wanted to fiddle with.  May had been insistent that they maintain communications, but so far, all they'd done was listen.  No use drawing attention to the face she had a tiny plug in her ear that could bark orders at her. She was getting looks, too, though so far, all her girly eyes had been directed at the morons in the private booth. Ntrabo Idele was the son of a warlord that was proclaiming himself as the new Zimbabwean royal line. He was meeting personally with Stephen Mycroft, arms dealer scum extraordinaire that had recently come into some new Chitauri-adapted weaponry. Skye had been making bimbo eyes at the guards surrounding the table and slutty little glances towards Mycroft all night while dancing her porn star best moves. There was a pat on her shoulder and she whirled around, almost spilling her drink, when Mycroft deftly snatched her and gave her a pained smile.

  
“Darling, this suit costs more than this club. I don’t mind if you get it messy, but I’d suggest we make it worth while, shall we?” She gushed an apology and gave him a subtle almost-grope or two, and then he was leading her by the arm to their private area. He presented her to Indele, who eyed her up and down and grinned, then patted the seat next to him. Mycroft squeezed her shoulders and put his mouth up against her ear.

  
“Make that man happy, and I’ll make sure you walk out of here with enough money to buy yourself a thousand diamond earrings.” She flashed a smile at the Zimbabwean, who didn’t notice, his attention glued on her chest, and sat down. She’d barely spoken when the curtain parted in front of her and a man stepped in. Grant Ward smiled humourlessly when he locked eyes with her, and grabbed at the jacket that was leaning over her seat.

  
“Beg pardon,” he offered falsely, feigning politeness. Idele looked between the two of them and then said something to Mycroft, who shook his head slightly and looked at Ward.

  
“Mr Idele is wondering how I know the young lady, though I was just about to ask her to dance, and wouldn’t dream of interrupting…?” She stared at him, almost daring him to break her cover.

  
“Melinda.” His lip twisted into a knowing grin and he bowed over her hand, then lifted her up out of her seat.  
“…interrupting Melinda from entertaining the two of you, but I think business always mixes well with pleasure, don’t you, Stephen?” The arms dealer waved a hand dismissively and went back to talking to his guards. Ward led them onto the dance floor and began to move with her to a slow string of notes that had them gliding across the floor in amongst the cuddling couples. Strangely, Skye noted he was somewhat of a good dancer. But then unarmed combat had a great deal to do with footwork.

  
“Hello, Skye. You’re in over your head, here.” She jerked her chin to the private room and his eyes followed as she slipped her hand into her wrist cuff and pulled free the bug she’s placed there to put on Mycroft. Ward was much bigger prey. May’s calm voice sounded in her ear.

  
“That’s Ward. Pull her out. Skye, this is May, we’re…”  
“We’re going to wait for your call. See where it leads, Skye.” Coulson’s voice gave her a moment’s reprieve as her nerve steeled.

  
“Says you, having dinner out in the open, within easy reach.” She moved against him, stumbling. His hand moved to her hip and he gave a low laugh that tickled her spine involuntarily.

  
“Steady. You’re supposed to be dancing, not giving yourself away. They already think we know one another.” Skye let him dip her, then flinched when he breathed in deeply of her neck when he brought her back up again. He didn’t waver for a second, simply expanded more strength in the motion. The music slowed further and he whirled her around in his arms until he was facing away from the room and continued to talk.

  
“You’d be surprised the weapons you can get ahold of when you’re doing contract security for Arms Dealer Steve. He has no idea what a gold mine he’s got under his thumb.” He suddenly held her close, moaned into her ear in a hungry sound, and his tongue flicked into her ear, dislodging the earpiece and sending an electric shock through her system. From the disengaging bioelectrical feedback, she told herself, not the hot breath on her ear and his sudden, satisfied smile as she slipped the bug back up in her sleeve in a move made seamless by the hours upon hours that May had made her practice it. The music sped up in tempo; a hot strutting beat making the crowd surge against itself and Skye and Ward were no exception. Their dance moves changed, raucous and challenging, pressing of bodies and attempts to distract the other as the music pounded around them, almost organic in its need. Behind them, the men from the private room began to come forwards, and Ward grabbed Skye and kissed her hard. She stood stock still in shock until his lips moved against hers.

  
“You should have checked for vid surveillance, Skye. They’ll have photo id of you linked with SHIELD in seconds… the seconds that just passed while we were dancing, I might add. You’ve still got a lot to learn.” She looked over his shoulder at the advancing guards and kicked off her heels into the undulating dance floor, breaking the kiss. And refusing to lick her lips.

  
“Don’t blame me, I had a shitty SO. Maybe it was your cover that’s blown, seeing as you’re out here dancing with me like you know me.” He shrugged as the men began to surround them.

  
“I don’t have a cover any more, Skye. I’m all for real, now.” The first guard reached forwards, and Ward exploded into brutal, breaking movement. It was like a continued part of the dancing, though infinitely smoother than any rehearsal could have made it. Ward flowed into the fight, breaking limbs and joints with almost casual ease as they made to grab her. She moved like water against his unbroken strength, and flowed around him, gathering two guns and clips from the downed guards and covering his back, pistol whipping those she couldn’t get clear shots on. There came a second’s lull in the fighting as the guards gathered themselves, and then her pistols were in the air, aimed at the huge men surrounding them, daring one to step forward. Ward shook his head almost bemusedly and jerked his spread arms, snapping the wrists of the guys he’d been holding in a complicated judo press of wrists. He bent down and grabbed a gun, standing against Skye’s back and moving them forward through the dance floor which was suddenly deathly quiet. Skye quickly tapped her sleeves together and one of her bracelets glowed a sudden bright blue.

  
“Wards here. Cover’s blown. Extracting now. Track me.”

  
He scoffed and shook his head as they began to move out off the dance floor to the bar, and the kitchen beyond that. They broke and ran for it as they moved out past the partygoers, running through the corridors with Ward in the lead, taking them out of the building with the surety of security knowledge.

  
“Just like old times, huh?” Skye didn’t let the grin show, though she figured he’d be aware that she was thinking the same thing. Missing the same thing. They were out the back door in seconds, and then Ward jumped on a bike hidden behind a dumpster in the alley. He jammed his fingers into the two holes in the crossbar and the bike beeped to life as he kicked it into ignition and slammed it into gear. Skye had barely enough time to hold on, and then they were riding through the night, out of town and into the hills.

 

* * *

 

Ward pulled over just outside of town, overlooking the lake and the night lights, and Skye got off, touching her feet to the stones and wincing, then looking back as he flipped open a small device that looked like an old style phone and pushed a button as he turned off the engine of the bike. There was a small whine, then suddenly everything died around them, including her watch. Ward eyed her wrist, where the tracking bracelet had also stopped glowing, and nodded, satisfied as he threw the used EMP device over the railing.

  
“I thought we could use a little bit of privacy.” She shivered in the sudden cold, but he wasn’t looking at her, but at her feet, and frowning. He looked at his own, but thankfully he didn’t offer to give her his shoes. She would have taken them, and she didn’t want anything of his.

  
“What do you want, Ward?” His eyes turned to her, locking onto her with their intensity. She was almost preparing herself for him to declare his desire for her then and there and try whatever he was going to try.

“How’s Fitz?” Definitely not what she was expecting, not even by a long shot, but she answered him slowly.

“Fine, no thanks to you.” Ward pushed his bottom jaw out, the way he did when he knew she was lying and wanted her to tell the truth. Which annoyingly, was spot on the money.

“But he’s not fine though. Is he, Skye?” She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not going to waste time on your pretended concern, Ward. You don’t have enough of a heart to be concerned about the friend you tried to kill.” Ward nodded slowly.

“That’s right. He was an enemy that I was told to take out, so I did it. He was supposed to die. Not be… maimed.” She stalked around the bike, and he moved away from her, not quite meeting her eyes.

“His brain is damaged, Grant. You nearly killed him; he’s lucky to even be alive.”

“I’ll bet he doesn’t think that way.” Skye didn’t speak, just stopped circling and watched him. “Fitz’s greatest asset, aside from Simmons, was his mind. If that’s broken… It would kill him.” Skye’s temper came back in full force.

“He’s not dead yet.” Ward did look at her then, and his confidence wore down her defiance as he completely dismissed her statement. Fitz was getting worse. Much worse.

“If… And I’m not saying there is. But if there was a chance that you could save him, would you?”

“Of course.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about them. Ward crossed his arms and leaned on the bike, which anyone else would take as a vulnerable position, but Skye wasn’t fooled. Ward was never vulnerable, at least not physically.

“Don’t answer straight away. What would you risk for him? To save your friend, what would you do, Skye?” She pursed her lips and rubbed her arms in the cold air. She was dressed for a packed club, not the side of the road. And she didn’t want her suddenly cold chest to give him any ideas. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

“I wouldn’t do anything that would make Fitz regret I’d done it.” She blurted even as she stared at his lips. He tilted his head like a shark considering its prey, and she held up a hand to clarify. “I wouldn’t kill anyone. But I’m listening.” He gave a soft scoff and turned around, looking over the township and at the lake, the quiet overlook. She sat on the bike, looking at him as his scent came up to her from the soft jacket around her shoulders. Almost unwillingly, she thought it was somewhat romantic, the two of them there under the stars, staring out at a night lit lake. She crushed the thought and crossed her legs in front of her. Ward looked, obviously distracted before he stared back out over the lake. She took the small victory for what it was.

“Arnim Zola.” Skye frowned at the name. She’d read the files, of course, but it was again, not anywhere near where she thought the conversation was heading. “When he began to get sick, and the Hydra directive came down through SHIELD to digitize his consciousness, it was a long process. Long and involved. Any human, no matter how brilliant, will begin to develop a build up of toxins and free radicals in the blood, and therefore the brain, which slows down natural neural function. In order to digitize it, SHIELD had to make certain that Zola’s brainwaves were functioning at their optimal levels. To that end, using protein codes and research from the Aquatica shark project, they were able to create a serum which strengthened the synaptic connections and basically greased the mental wheels of anyone using it. Zola’s brain used about half of it. If I’m right, and Simmons can control the dosages correctly, Fitz’s brain chemistry will rectify and his synaptic connections will be strengthened even beyond what they were before. It can save him.” Skye tried to control her breathing as hope flushed through her, and Ward shook his head in warning.

“Where is it, how much? What do you want for it?” He shook his head again and pursed his lips.

“I don’t have it yet. It could kill me just getting it. But if I do… I’ll need something from you.” Skye stared at him, then nodded slowly.

“Get me enough so that Simmons can study it. If it turns out to help, you’ll get what you want. If not, and it hurts him, then you get nothing, and I’ll still hunt you down…” Ward stood up and shook his head, throwing his hands wide.

“Not much use in bothering then, is there, Skye? This stuff breaks your mind in half and sews the pieces back together again with barbed wire and battery acid. It might kill him, just as easily as bring him back.” Skye bit her lip, looking around, then finally nodded.

“Okay, that’s a fair point. So. Get me enough for Simmons to study, and… if it’s the real deal, then we’ll talk. It’s the best I can promise, Grant.” He nodded, and pulled out an old fashioned stop watch, the kind that you wound to make it work.

“Then I’ll take it. I’ll be in touch, Skye.” He got back on the bike and pointed out the lights in the sky heading towards them over the lake. He kicked the engine and it roared to life under him as the Bus slowly came into view and began to lower. He gave her a last, lingering look and took off, leaving her with his leather jacket in the cold air. Her bracelet beeped at her, suddenly flickering red around her wrist, and she tapped it on the underside of her wrist, activating the one way control.

“I’m here, May. Beam me up.”

 

* * *

 

It was there, in his head, he knew it was. It had always been there. It was still there. It was like having a topographical map with town and no pathways. He knew where the towns were, just no roads making the journey easy. His mind had always worked faster than his mouth, but it was a part of who he was. Had been. Once. Fitz closed his eyes and threw the screwdriver across the room. It was only the lock for the lab door. There was a time he could have and had done it in his sleep. Simply swapping out parts and reassembling the device. Things he’d done a million times while thinking of other things. He had a habit of disabling his alarm clocks with a turnkey as a means to calm his mind enough to sleep. This was something that should have been easy. But now he couldn’t remember which screws went where, and he knew it was his mind that wasn’t what it was. He was trying to come to terms with his differences, but everyone else was looking at them, too. Simmons was gone, and Fitz didn’t know what to do with that. She’d left. She might have had a good reason for it, but she’d left. Except now she was back. And it was making things hurt, things that shouldn’t have hurt, because you can’t feel bad for someone doing what SHIELD did. He reached for the screwdriver, but it was gone. He looked about the lab, and saw that it was across the room, rolling over the table slowly back and forth as though it was carelessly thrown there. He wondered who had done it.

Outside the lab, Skye looked on, tears in her eyes. She’d just come from Jemma’s room, where the girl was crying her heart out into a pillow and sobbing uncontrollably. She’d even gone through Skye’s emergency chocolate rations. Skye had gone to get more and she’d seen Fitz, talking to himself and pottering about the lab, feeling safe in his little world and only there. Her phone beeped and she wiped her cheeks and opened it, seeing Ward's message there, a simple question mark. Then looked back at Fitz and sighed as he tapped his shoulder, running his fingers over the cusp as though he were lacing his fingers with someone that wasn’t really there.

She texted Ward back.

 

* * *

 

The hotel room was much, much nicer than anything she’d been in legally before. Everything was expensive, and the bed was soft and silk. Skye ate a strawberry from the fruit platter, then took a glass of champagne and drowned it. The strawberry tingled in her mouth from the bubbles and the warmth hit her stomach as the champagne settled her nerves for a moment. There was a beep from the door, and Ward came through, dirty and bloody. He looked like he’d been through WWXXI, and he stopped, staring at her. It was the first time in months that they’d been in one another’s presence. Ward dropped his bag and set up an alarm on the door, after hanging the DND sign on the front.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” he intoned, before walking to the table and taking off his shirt, where a muddy scrape ran down the back of his shoulder. Skye winced, but covered it. And tried not to let his casual nakedness get to her. He’d kept in shape. He was leaner and more predatory than the last time she’d seen him. There was something hungry about him, as though any fuzzy bits of Ward that had remained had been chipped away, leaving the bare essence of a killer behind. She reminded herself that that was what he was. A killer. He went and got a face washer from the bathroom and warmed it, then began to clean the wound. He winced as the cloth tore away the dried blood and he started to bleed again. Skye got up off the bed and took the rag from him. He flinched slightly away from her when she grabbed him, then lowered his head as she cleaned the wound slowly.

“I’m here for my friends. That’s the only reason.” He gave a low laugh and nodded his head slowly.

“Ah yes… friends.” He didn’t say any more as she tended to him, but she could feel his muscles relax under her soft touch. They were silent for quite a while until she finished, and then Ward took a breath and thanked her. He stood back up and went to his bag, and pulled out a clear liquid filled hypodermic. He placed it gingerly on the table and turned to her, his ribs rippling the skin at his upper waist, which of course, Skye didn’t notice. Or blush about. She was a SHIELD agent. SHIELD Agents don’t blush.

“The things I did to get this, you might never forgive me for.” She reached out and touched the tube, then looked him square in the eye.

“They were Hydra, right?” He nodded.  “Screw them.” Ward chuckled, then got up, stretching his shoulder and nodding his thanks at her patch up work.

“I didn’t think about that. Maybe it would have been easier…” She smiled sadly at his humour and he dropped the pretence.

“Your price?” She laid her hand on the serum and eyed him warily. Ward waved a hand at it, and she tucked it into her handbag.

“A night. One night. With you. Pretending that you mean it.” Skye’s breath quickened. Of course she’d thought about it. For all that he’d done, she was quite willing to admit that he was a man who pushed all those naughty buttons that made you want to forget about all he’d done. Chiselled jaw and dark, menacing looks. Body by bullshit, and too many muscles to be for real. Of course he was evil. Which only made it worse. What girl didn’t like the idea of taming the bad boy.

“You’re mad.” He laughed then, and stood up, tucking a gun from somewhere into the front of his black jeans. Skye’s eyes betrayed her, and they lingered on the image presented to her.

“You’d be surprised how amazingly liberating that can be, Skye. No inhibitions, no caution, nothing to hold you back or make you listen to society’s rules. I’m no anarchist, but I know that there’s more rules than what we need in this world. I won’t take what I want from you. But I won’t like about what you do to me, either.” He tilted his head again, and for a second, Skye’s breath caught. She shook her head and put the serum back on the table.

“I told you, I won’t do anything that Fitz would regret me doing. He’s my friend, and no matter…”

“He’d never have to know.” She shook her head and stood up, heading to the doorway.

“Real friends don’t lie to one another about that sort of thing.” He scoffed.

“You’re a spy, now, Skye. You like to everyone. You should try being open for a change. Admit that you like the thought that I want you and would do anything for you. Admit that you like that power. It’s only human.”

“I don’t know if I’m human, Ward. I only know what I’m not going to do.” She moved away from them and reached out to the door. Her hand touched the lock, and she couldn’t stop the sudden crushing pain of Fitz stumbling with trying to fix the door lock on the Bus. Jemma crying in her room, unable to get through to her friend. Everything that had happened, and how Ward was offering her the chance to fix it all. Maybe it was her turn to jump out of a plane.

She reached out and locked the door, then moved back towards Ward. She slowly, hesitantly reached out to him, running her palms along his cheeks and feeling the thick stubble of his beard. Her head paused for only a moment of heartbeats before moving forward and kissing him. It was different this time. She was kissing the real him. He was animalistic, pushing teeth and tongue against her, but in a controlled fury, as though he wanted to take her and make her his, but also wouldn’t hurt her. His hands rested slowly and lightly on her hips, and she ran her fingertips around his waistline, gripping his pants and sliding them down his thighs. As they moved to the bed, Skye turned the light out, and Ward breathed deeply against her neck, burying his face in her, and drowning in all that she was. After a while, it didn’t even matter that this was Ward. Because it wasn’t. This was Grant. This was a tender, soft lover who explored her and gave everything to her. Skye couldn’t stop herself from taking and giving back to him, either. Her teeth scored against him as truly as his kisses suckled at her lips. She finished them on top of him, collapsing to his heaving body and shaking with the strength of her need.

* * *

 

In the morning, he was gone. She took the serum and dressed herself, racing back to the Bus and delivering it to Simmons, who ran it through the scanner without a single mention of Skye’s ruffled appearance and scent, nor the fact that she was wearing the same clothing she had left in yesterday. After only twenty minutes, Simmons knocked on the door of Skye’s room, dragging her out of the shower with an ashen face.

  
"Saline.  That's all that's in that tube.  The "serum" was nothing more than saline.  It's utterly useless to Fitz."

Skye fought for control as her thoughts raged, standing there fresh from a shower where she'd washed his scent off of her body, betrayed all over again by the man.  She almost wanted to cry, but Simmons was doing just that, the feelings and frustrations too much for her. 

Coulson’s voice came over the tannoy.

“We’ve had an intruder.”


	2. Circle One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz's personal hell begins.

Fitz pursed his lips and considered the slight curl of smoke from the circuit board in front of him. It was somewhere between evening and godforsaken-early, and he still had three more components to Simmons’ anti-viral injection capsule delivery system to go before next Friday. It wasn’t that it was a deadline of epic proportions, it was that Simmons had asked him. He unplugged the soldering iron and rubbed a hand through his curly hair. The blonde waves carried the remnants of his work, a few pieces of clipped wire, and a metal shaving or three. Again, it wasn’t a deadline he was concerned about muchly. The work would be done of course, but it needed to be up to expectations. He didn’t want to disappoint his friend. Which was a joke, of course, he morosely admitted. He didn’t want to see anything but happiness in Jemma’s eyes, was more to the point.

Simmons, he reminded himself. Every “Simmons” was a reference to a work colleague. It was when he started saying Jemma that he had to think of her as a woman. A beautiful, smart, witty woman of class and that smile, that seemed to just make her whole face light up and made him stammer and lose concentration. She would be amazing to… **Simmons** , he reminded himself. He rubbed his eyes and stopped himself from looking at the clock. Just needing a break, a break in the flow, Fitz thought to himself.

He moved over to the edge of his workbench and pulled out his pet project; a small holographic interface projector, complete with programmable voice recognition, inspired by Stark Technology’s Holodesks. But miniaturised and portable. He tinkered with the lenses while his mind raced. The party downstairs had quieted down, finally, but he didn’t think he’d see anyone from there for a while. At least the peace and quiet had lasted for a while, he thought, his hands racing over the softball sized housing as he realigned the power source and added a further layered lens to the projection component. He clicked the housing back into place as his watched beeped three times from somewhere near his bed. Fitz rubbed his face, and his hands came away with the silvery black sheen of metal polish. He sighed and conceded defeat. Friday wasn’t far away, but going flat out on one major project always drained him, he reflected as he moved to his private shower station, built off the compensator he’d created. He quickly showered, enjoying the hot water running over his aching back muscles. Spending so long hunched over the desk was going to give him a prematurely aged spine. There was a fumble at the door and then a giggle, breaking him from his reverie and making him sigh. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind his roommate, it was more that that boy was always underfoot, yet constantly happy to utilize Fitz’s inventions.

He walked out of the shower corner with his towel wrapped around his waist and stopped as Simmons, SIMMONS, **SIMMONS** giggled again and then stared at him owlishly. She was wearing a netball skirt and a very tight Stark International shirt that had some kind of nacho sauce splashed across the right upper chest which he wasn’t staring at while being in a towel and feeling everything possibly needing some fabric softener but that was nothing at all compared to the tight material stretched across her chest that wasn’t at all what he was looking at given that he was encased in a towel which wasn’t at all helping and he realised his brain was babbling and he needed to say something profound.

  
“Sooo… uhm…”

  
“Hi Fitz. I want to go up onto the roof. Can you open a window for me?”

  
He was stock still for a moment before leaning forwards, a death grip on the towel, and unlatched the window. She beamed at him and then strode forward purposefully, if only to trip on the edge of the bed and snap back, then swoon and collapse on his bed unsteadily.

  
“Well… Bugger. I wanted to see the stars.” She looked so desolated that she wasn’t going to make it to the roof that Fitz sat beside her on the bed. She was wearing her favourite perfume, which Fitz didn’t know the name of but knew intimately the smell of. He can also smell something else, too.

  
“Is that… tequila?” She nodded sadly.

  
“It was a Mexican themed dinner.” She seemed so pathetic that Fitz knew he shouldn’t laugh, but she seemed so like a lost child, resigned to life without the stars. But she didn’t need to. Fitz got up off the bed and moved his desk’s covering of paper works and jotted ideas and grabbed the marble that he’d left there three weeks ago. He switched the lamp off, plunging the room into blackness and making Simmons give a squeal of shock. The light from the window was enough to navigate to the workbench, and he rolled the marble in his hands for a moment. Placing it on the holographic projector, he hit the light and the room was suddenly bathed in flecks of white and blue light. Jemma’s head bobbed as the light flooded the room, before her wondrous smile broke forth into a laugh of purest delight at the flecks. In the soft blue light, she clapped her hands and giggled, then turned to Fitz, who shrugged and sat back down on the bed beside her.

  
“At least I can bring the stars to you, Simmons.” Jemma stared at him in the soft light, her warm brown eyes like the richest of ambers. A vague memory tugged at Fitz’s awareness and he suddenly remembered that Jemma was about to turn away and go to sleep on his bed. This was a memory, not a moment. He smiled and she smiled back and he leant forwards to grab the blanket for her.

  
Jemma’s hand on his wrist surprised him, because it hadn’t happened this way. She leant forwards and touched his face gently even as Fitz’s mouth parted, hoping for her. She smiled and leant in closer. The kiss was long and slow, moving almost unbelievably into one another’s embrace without a word spoken between them.

  
Jemma brought him down onto her across the bed and he began to stammer, but she held a finger onto his lip before kissing it and then moving her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down on top of her. Fitz knew things were different but he didn’t care anymore, because Jemma was kissing him and against him, happily.

  
She was nervous, but then, so was Fitz. It was his first time. This wasn’t something that had happened between him and anyone else. Jemma was completely shy towards him, but pushing herself, wanting him. Fitz’s nervousness was outshone only by his desire, his need for her. It wasn’t until she opened her mouth and gave a deep, shuddering moan against his ear that the shyness began to leave. His hands followed her body as she rocked her hips against him, needing him near her and trying her hardest to entice him into liking her. Her hair was loose from it’s usual bun, and Fitz drowned in the dark brown silk of it as she kissed him. She held onto him tightly, like in the med capsule, frantically holding him in a primal need, though this wasn’t a need to survive. She moaned into his ear and then possessively bit it, flushing heat over his face and he pushed her face with his own, rubbing his clean cheek against hers. Jemma kissed his cheek, then his lips, her hot breath on his face as her hands moved the towel aside, and then it was his turn to gasp as she breathed hotly against him. She moved him into her with a small smile that broadened in wonder as she looked up at the stars that he’d made for her, then back down at him, enamoured and lovingly. They were moving slowly, taking their time, but Fitz began to struggle in his breathing, trying to control it, but shuddering as he struggled against everything her body was making him feel, before he was overwhelmed. Jemma leant back and kissed him, urging him on with her legs around his hips, pushing the towel down and feeling the hot skin between them. Fitz moaned her name and then he was filling her, gushing hot and thick inside of her.

  
She leaned back further into the pillows and sighed, kissing him softly, tenderly. Fitz opened his eyes against the blissful warmth that threatened to carry him off, and Jemma was gone, and the light was off, the window not even carrying any light in with it. Only the stars remained, far above, in the blackness.

  
“Jemma?” The bight lights shine down on him harsher, and blind him. He awoke with a sudden jump and took a moment to come back to himself. A dream. But he could still smell her perfume, and taste the tequila from that night way back in college, when she’d almost but not quite kissed him, then fallen asleep on his bed. He’d dreamed. But it felt like something much more. His heart was still thudding in his chest and he had a headache that would have done a hangover proud. The intercom buzzed and Coulson’s voice came through.

  
“Fitz, we’ve had a breach at some stage. Someone got on my plane that wasn’t invited. I need you to run a diagnostic and find out how, then plug the “how” and re-uninvite them. Clear?” Fitz nodded and Coulson gave it a moment. “Fitz?”

  
“Right.” He stood up and stepped on a plastic tube. Bending down, he picked it up, staring at it. It was a syringe that had been emptied. At first, he thought Simmons had been in his room with something organic and disgusting, but then he realised she’d never have left equipment out for him to harp at her over. This was something else.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Fitz began to worry, as the headache began to get heavier.


	3. Circle Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next level down finds Fitz beginning to confuse reality with dreams. Or maybe the other way around.

“Simmons?”

  
“In here, Fitz…” It wasn’t like he was expecting it. He had just been scrubbing his hands for the last fifteen minutes, having made the lab pristine once again. He hadn’t seen Jemma in hours, and was beginning to wonder why she’d spent so much time away from the lab, which was usually where she spent the most time. He certainly wasn’t expecting to open the door to her room and see her dressed in a school uniform. Technically, almost dressed. The top was too tight, and the tie was draped haphazardly over her front, which threatened to burst through the buttons in full defiance. Fitz, being human, had nothing to say other than a low, unintelligible string of sounds. Jemma looked up and gestured behind her, but Fitz’s eyes stayed where they were.

  
“Mum and dad sent me a box of some old stuff I had stored there when they moved. I only just got the chance to open it now. Guess I’m reminiscing. Can you believe that I used to go to Catholic school in this?” Again came Fitz’s string of unintelligible words. One of the almost formed a consonant. Almost. Jemma blushed and smiled to herself, amused if a bit disbelieving.

  
“Honestly, Fitz, it’s just me… I didn’t know you had a thing for schoolgirls…” She gave a low laugh that was deep and breathy and couldn’t stop the slight catch at the end that almost made it a question.

“Um…” Emboldened by the success of at least forming that word, Fitz went for broke.

“I might be something of a Nerd Lord, but I’m a bit of a geek as well, at times. What self respecting geek doesn’t like a bit of cosplay?” She smiled and twirled, the tartan skirt flapping out around her for a moment, rising high above her thighs. Fitz’s face turned a very deep shade of red and he gave his low intelligibles again.

“We live in a world of spies, Fitz. Every day is LARP.”

“Not every day with you, it isn’t…” Something in her face changed, and her eyes shifted as she coyly toyed with the edge of her skirt, lifting it a little. Fitz’s breathing was shortening and she could feel his nervousness increasing.

“You’d still work with me if I wore this into the lab, still be friends?” He pursed his lips and blushed.

“Might not be as full a protective covering as a lab coat.” He seemed proud of himself for that comment, and nodded afterwards, until Jemma looked down at her cleavage and ran a fingertip across the tight fabric.

“I suppose I’ve gone through a few biological changes.” Fitz seemed like he was about to start hyperventilating, and Jemma couldn’t stop herself as she rushed ahead, enjoying how obviously she was affecting him.

“It’s not like they’re Skye’s size.” Confusion crossed his features and then he looked down, his eyes running over her body, trying to understand and getting very distracted in the process.

“Um… What’s not like Skye’s? The uniform is yours, isn’t it? Skye’s what?” Jemma shrugged and Fitz’s eyes bulged for a moment as her top preceded him.

“Fitz, seriously, I’m not an idiot, but I’m not that arrogant, either. I understand, it’s okay.” She smiled at him softly, and he frowned, scratching his head and sneaking another look at her legs. Then realised she was staring at him while he did it and blushed further.

“I know… I… look… I think… I… I… Th-that…” He sighed. “W-what was the question?” She smiled again and motioned behind him.

“Can you close the door, please?” He nodded, concentrating on the task and locked it.

“Oh.” He frowned again. “Uh-I, well, that is… am I in or outside? I can go. I should go, shouldn’t I?” Jemma sat down on the bed and crossed her legs, slowly smiling as Fitz swallowed and unabashedly stared, then looked at Jemma like she’d wounded him.

“You’ve just locked us in, Fitz…”

“Jemma…”

“Are you looking at my legs?” Her voice dropped an octave, then another when he stammered and she realised how nervous she was making him, the effect she had on him and how hot she suddenly felt in the small room with Fitz fidgeting. She leant down, feeling her chest push up almost out of the top as she ran her fingers over her ear, pushing her hair back away from her face, deliberately not looking at him, letting him stare at her. It was making her feel amazing.

“There’s a lot of leg under this skirt, isn’t there? My… It’s a lot shorter than I remember. Or maybe I’m taller.”

“Probably both,” he blurted, turning around and staring at the ceiling. A wicked smile crossed her face as she snapped her fingers.

“Taller! Right… Clearly you’re not thinking straight, Fitz… I wonder if I could still fit into my school shoes. I think they’re in here somewhere.” She got off the bed and bent over, almost bending to a full ninety degrees and looking at the pale look on Fitz’s face as he stared straight up her skirt at her panties. His mouth opened and he began to pant. His eyes shifted up and locked with hers in the mirror. Her smile pursed her lips together as she smirked at him. She tucked her hair behind her ear again and looked at him with a slightly parted smile and stood back up, beckoning to him in the mirror. Fitz moved up to her and she leant back, pulling his arms around her waist. She waited until he held her, then moved her hands to her pocket and slid a pair of glasses on. Fitz swallowed again, and she felt him move against her rear through the skirt.

“Fitz… We’re not in school anymore.”

“I know,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “I understand.”

“All grown up, Fitz. Adults. I’m not a little girl, anymore. And I’m tired of waiting, and I want what I want.” Fitz paled even further and for a moment, she worried he’d faint. She brought one hand up to her breasts and pushed the other down to her skirt.

“Um… Ugh… I-I…"

She hushed him softly and pushed back against him, feeling him thicken as she leant far back, twisting her head to kiss at his lips gently. She was pushing her breasts into his shy hand and could feel the pressure of his other hand on her hip and moaned softly into his mouth. Fitz’s arms tightened around her and she moaned louder against him, as he flushed red. Jemma smiled against his lips, tasting her lipstick on him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, Fitz… I guess if I’d known you have a thing for school uniforms, I might have had an easier time of it…” Fitz swallowed and licked his lips, pushing his face against hers and breathing deeply.

“I don’t have a thing for schoolgirls. I have a thing for you.” Jemma sighed happily and moved them back onto her bed, pushing Fitz down and straddling him, easing her hair out and running her fingertips down her front, easing the buttons aside to show her bra through the white top. Fitz moaned as she lifted her skirt, moving her panties aside as she moved back and forth on top of him. Her hands were suddenly off her body and on his, tearing at buttons and clothes and running over his skin. She bit her lip and he couldn’t help the moan when she moved her hand into his groin and lifted him out of his pants. Fitz moaned with a shuddering breath and Jemma smiled at him, pleased as she teased herself with his tip until he thrust up almost uncontrollably. She eased up onto her thighs and then slowly moved him inside of her as she slide down him, blowing out a breath at the heat crawling up her as he strained between her thighs.

Jemma’s hips rocked on top of Fitz, pushing down and feeling him inside of her, and her smile was full and wicked as she pulled his shoulders up, making him sit up while making sure he wasn’t pulling out. Moaning against his head, she dragged his mouth to hers for a long, lingering kiss of caressed tongue and hot breath, then moved his still grasping mouth to her nipples, one after the other and still riding him, sliding him up and down inside of her and feeling waves of pressure building within.

Fitz began to gasp as she clenched down around him and his teeth clenched on her nipple as she began to cum hard, and shook over him, crushing his face between her breasts. Spots appeared before her eyes and she gasped as her whole world thrashed about her in that sudden release of light and heat, before pushing Fitz over and collapsing on top of him, her breath raking her throat in gasps and disbelieving laughs. After a moment, she pulled back weakly and kissed him, a lopsided grin on her features. Fitz, looking utterly lost and goofy in his happiness, catches her eye and smiles and she waved a hand in acknowledgement, pointing to her face.

“Sorry, you’re amazing, I’ve got stars blinking in my eyes, ha ha…” Fitz’s face fell and suddenly he was elsewhere in his mind as he stared at her.

“I can bring the stars to you…” Jemma looked up, confused, but she wasn’t wearing a school uniform anymore, she was wearing a lab coat and bent over the desk studiously near a microscope.

“What?”

Fitz jerked upright in bed and punched the pillow hard, then again, and snarled in frustration at his tangled bed. Once his breathing came straight again, he began to sob as the frustration and sensations overwhelming him grew too much.

* * *

  
Outside the door, Jemma bit her knuckles and quietly wiped away her tears with the edge of her sleeve. Melinda pursed her lips before reaching out to her and clasping her on the shoulder. The two of them finished their watch over Fitz in silence as he cried in his room.


	4. Circle Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get darker for Fitz as he loses his mind slowly to itself and the darker parts begin to get stronger.

The night was cold, but the open balcony doors looking out over the grounds were a welcome feeling after the stuffiness of the presentation hall. He’d never seen her like this. This was as adult as he’d ever considered her. Her heels make her legs some kind of magical musical instrument in toned bronze. The black dress had drawn his attention all night, seeming like his eyes weren’t supposed to go anywhere but everywhere on her. The award ceremony had come and gone and she hadn’t as yet taken her make up off. Jemma leant against the balcony, the edge of her rear sitting on the stone, dragging the material around her thighs up to dangerously high levels that drew his eye regardless of his thoughts or intentions. She lifted her hand delicately to her lips, taking a long drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke trail out of her mouth and up into the light evening sky. Her hair curled around her face like the smoke that curled up into the night, but her eyes were dark and hungry and her lips thickly red as she ran the tip of her tongue over them, staring at him intently. The cigarette in her lips glowed briefly as she drew it to her mouth again, and then she flicked it out over the balcony, staring at him so intently.

  
She spread her legs slightly, jutting her chin out to him as she lifted her skirt over the tops of her thighs and twisted her neck to the side, alluring and inviting. The silken material of her dress pooled like black oil in her hands and shimmered in the darkening eve light.

Fitz moved forward to her, his loosened tie blowing in the breeze slightly as she reached out with one hand and claimed his tie, pulling him to her lips and tasting of cigarette smoke and the dark oil on her lips. It was her own taste which he still wasn’t used to, but couldn’t get enough of.

Her hands dropped to his belt as she fought to suck on his tongue, and pulled him against her, shoving her hand down into his trousers and grabbed him through his boxers. Her mouth twisted against his in a dark, excited grin and then she was bringing him out and over the edge of his pants and pulling him into hardness. Fitz leaned back and looked around, but Jemma carelessly dropped to her knees and enveloped him in the sudden heat of her mouth. Her tongue moved up against the underside of him, and he staggered against her, bracing himself on the balcony wall at her back as she raked her teeth along his seam and his knees buckled.

Jemma began to suck him in earnest, watching him as intently as he watched her, until she moved a hand between her legs and closed her eyes in pleasure as she moaned, thrumming vibrations through him and making his legs shake. After a moment, she took her hand back and swapped, running her lips over her own glistening fingers as she stared at Fitz. He was hard and ready for her, covered in her mouth but thrusting harder. Jemma took him out of her mouth with a pop and twirled, bending over the balcony and lifting her skirt over her hips, guiding him into her with a low moan of unintelligible want. Jemma spread herself wide with her fingers as Fitz began to grunt and thrust deeper into her.

She ground her hips back onto his thrust and they sped up, until Fitz began to feel something and pulled out, holding himself tightly to stop before he exploded over her. Jemma pouted as she looked back and he paled at the look of sheer want on her face. He felt embarrassed and didn’t to lose himself again, but she felt so damned good and the looks of lust and pure desire on her face were irresistible to him. He knew it wasn’t real, but reality was not measure to the sensations she was evoking in him. Fitz lost himself in the dream.

Jemma lifted a leg up onto the balcony, spreading herself wider as he drove inside of her again, his hands clawing into her hips and claiming her. He could feel everything from the pure wet bliss of her body to the cold of the night air on the wetness that her desire left on him. Fitz watched her wanting him and felt for the first time strong. He felt strong and desired and didn’t care what the voices in the back of his head were telling him. He growled and Jemma pushed back harder, claiming his attention as she arched her back and dragged him further over her. The sensations changed as she moaned like an animal, rutting with him in the most primal possible pleasures. They pushed against one another and she was tight around him as he lunged against her, his face in her hair as her hands gripped him and urged him on harder inside of her. He was addicted to what she was evoking in him and fulfilling that addiction with every fevered thrust and moan. Jemma rocked herself against him as though she’d never wanted another more, and then she was shaking and the wetness was splashing against him as she came hard. She clenched down and drenched him, and Fitz lost control, filling her as he grabbed her hips and thrust deeply once more before gushing, holding her against him as she gyrated, grinding deeper and deeper onto him.

Fitz’s legs collapsed under him for real this time, and they fell back onto the balcony, or inside, as they were on carpet. Fitz gave a helpless moan as the pressure pushed the last of his cum out, and Jemma was swivelling on his groin, still enveloping him and watching his shake in overwhelmed desperation as the sensations raged through him in his hypersensitivity. Jemma pushed a hand down and ran her fingertips over his balls, bringing them up to her mouth and cleaning them off her fingers as she rocked on top of him, easing him in and out of her in messy demand for more.  
She stared at him, controlling him in her eyes and body and enjoying his heat and hardness as he kept inside of her.

Jemma’s fingers strayed to her nipples and she leaned forward, rocking her hips on him and feeling him slosh within her, their cum dripping out of her. She bounced her hips on his groin, feeling him push in and out of her as she toyed with her nipples and hungrily stare at him, chewing on her bottom lip which somehow still maintained it’s dark red gloss. Jemma grabbed his hands as they shook on her hips and brought them up to her throat, urging him to squeeze with her nod and lustful eyes. He shy squeezed and she closed her eyes, rocking harder against him a though he were a rodeo bull. Fitz couldn’t last long against her moans and then Jemma was leaping off him, jerking him into her mouth with her hand. He came again, and collapsed against the carpet as she cleaned him off, sparks of light and fire shooting up his frayed nerves along his spine. What she was doing to him was shaking his world, fraying his concentration and consciousness. Darkness closed in on him and threatened to take him, but he concentrated on the darkening sky out the window.

The stars in the sky were slowly winking out above him, and Fitz reached out to them, but Jemma is there again, wiping her thumb across her lips and cleaning him off her as she sat on him again, rubbing her pussy along his exhausted, limp cock and hungrily staring at him.

“Talk to me, Jemma. Say something…” he gasped, but she kept moving, and the sensations grew, filling his senses as she eased low on him, kissing him. She shook her head as he moaned in pain, unable to stop himself, and his gaze followed her to the stars, wherein the sensations she was controlling threatened to overwhelm him.

“This… isn’t right. Jemma. What’s happening?” She didn’t answer again, just moved over him, predatory and hungry.

“What’s going on?” Fear suddenly overwhelmed him and Jemma was there still, demanding more, and more from him and he was suddenly crying, unable to stand the stress that was thrashing about in his head. The terror gripped him and he screamed, but he was sitting up in his room again. His heart beat frantically in his chest like a frightened bird flitting in it’s cage, but Fitz steadied himself, trying to control his fear and his breathing, and not having much success in either endeavour. He’d messed himself again, in the dream, sticking his boxers to his skin with clammy fluid. He went to move out of the bed to the sink but his weak knees cracked and wouldn’t hold him, and he was on the ground, crawling in pain and fear as he moved to the sink. He pulled himself up over the rim and drank from the faucet, the threw water on his face and took several deep breaths.

He clicked on the light and opened his eyes, and Jemma’s hungry face stared at him from the mirror as she lunged for him, almost vampiric in her wildness. Fitz whirled around and raised his arms in fear, but there was no one there. Fearfully he looked at the mirror, but only his pale, terrified face looked back at him. Beyond tears, he just sat there, numbly breathing, trying to get his breath back and calm himself. His headache was much worse, verging on a migraine now. He wiped his nose and it came away wet, but red. He tilted his head back and this time, the tears did come as great racking sobs let the stress out. He still couldn’t understand what was happening to him, it was dancing out of his reach tantalizingly out of focus, like so many things these days. Fitz knew he shouldn’t be feeling sorry for himself, he should be focussing. But he could still feel Jemma’s lips against his, and it was the most horrid torture he could think of.

* * *

 

Coulson watched the infrared camera pan back to Fitz’s face, white hot tears showing down the blackness. He looked at May, who nodded slowly and breathed. He reluctantly altered their course and turned the screen off.


	5. Circle Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the darkest parts of you are still there, screaming at you in the recesses of your lost, wandering mind?

It was a dream. It was going to be a dream. These were all dreams. There was nothing to say that it wasn’t a dream. Nothing to say that it was, either. He had no data. At least that was the way he understood it. Fitz was all about practicals and analysis. Skye was the one that had leaps of intuition, and Coulson was the architect of it all. Their faces came and went in his vision, and he breathed. His mind worked a thousand little angles, waiting for whatever would come out of the ether at him. It was playing on his thoughts of Simmons, whatever “IT” was. And it wasn’t a clown. Clowns, however terrifying, could still be shot, or otherwise incapacitated. Fitz controlled his breathing, aware that his subconscious and his conscious minds couldn’t really be able to compare notes, and that as such, something else was going on here. Beside him, Simmons whispered something in her sleep and wriggled closer to him. He put his arm around her and bunched up the cardigan he’d taken off and put under her head. He frowned at her over the harsh blue-white of the hospital sheet. He was in the lab, on a bed. He frowned. Or was that the dream? He didn’t know what was happening, and then Jemma moaned beneath him, whimpering. He hated it when she did that. He hated seeing her in pain. He closed his eyes and leant back, wishing the feelings of frustration would pass. But Jemma was screaming in his head again, and Fitz forgot it was just a dream.

 

* * *

 

She was begging him to stop. But she wanted it. He knew she did. It was the way she looked at him. Her eyes when she saw him watching her. Telling him to unleash everything he was into her. Daring him to make her beg for him.

_This is wrong. This isn’t me._

It was the little things that he noticed, like how she bit her lips when she looked away from him, how she played with her hair. How she made his heart beat faster and how she wore the things that she knew turned him on. She never said anything. She never had to. Their minds worked together, everyone said so. He just had to make her see it. Feel it just like he did. Jemma would scream so hot when he was inside her. He wouldn’t stop this time. It was how things were supposed to be between them.

_No! Run Jemma! Simmons, it’s me, you have to run, there’s something wrong!_

Ward might be the strong, tough one, but it didn’t matter here in the lab. Here in the lab, Fitz was the creator. He was a god in this place, and she was there, offering herself as his sacrifice. But he didn’t want a virgin. He wanted to taste her. Because she was the forbidden fruit that he’d always had on the tip of his tongue. She liked guys that stood up and took what they wanted? Fine. She was what he wanted. He’d take her. She pretended to be shocked when he grabbed her. But she moved against him to hotly when he did, and she was moaning with just a hint of sobs as he pushed her against the work bench.

_Stop it, you’re hurting her! Don’t hurt her!_

She liked it. She wore the mascara thick, making him want to see it run, see how hot she was for him. She sobbed, but it was an act, because she cried and moved her chest, thrusting herself to him. He was starting to shake, but he was still the god of his place here. Nothing and no one could stop him. He thrust her face into the glass wall and ripped her pants down. He was ready for her, and she was begging him. Begging him to stop, but not really. In his heart, he could feel the revulsion creeping up, like he wasn’t man enough to handle this. But he was. He would. The feelings of being sick would go away.

_NO! You can’t do this!_

**_wHy NoT? ANyoNe ElSE jUsT TAKES! wE sHoUld tAke ToO!_ **

Fitz stopped and Jemma looked over her shoulder at him, wiping the tears away and staring. He put his hand to his head and then shook it. Was this a dream? Was it reality?

“Jemma, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? Of course I did, jesus… Call Coulson, tell him… I’ll tell him!” He picked up the phone, then whirled around and smacked her in the face with it. Jemma fell to the floor in a silent crumple, and Fitz growled low in his throat, clenching his fists.

_**waNT! tAKe! MINE!** _

Fitz grabbed the sides of his head and shook, trying to concentrate. Alarms where blaring suddenly, and he looked over, and saw Jemma crying beside the panic button. Thundering steps followed as the doors opened and the pain in his head started to become all encompassing. He shook his head again, trying to clear it, but then everyone was there.

“You’re useless now, Fitz, what are you doing? Why are you even here?” Coulson stared at him, shaking his head, and laughed, putting away his gun. May followed suit, looking at him disdainfully.

“I’m surprised he’s still here. It’s not like he’s helping the team or anything. What do you think, Grant?” Ward was picking up Jemma, who huddled in his arms, then kissed him, making out with him more and more raucously. May shrugged then looked back at Fitz.

“Guess she’s not gonna miss you.” There was a hiss behind him, and the glass doors slid open. Skye gave a half smile and gestured to the half open cargo doors that seemed to have no wind rushing through them.

“You never jumped last time, Fitz. Take the plunge. You’ll never be a hero unless you make the final leap, right?” She gestured to the open doors, and he looked down at his clean hands. They should have been covered with blood, Jemma’s blood. He sniffed them as he walked through the glass doors and smelt her perfume. He’d obviously gone crazy. It was the right thing to do, then. He looked at Skye, who was smiling at him softly.

“Tell my family…” She shook her head.

“They won’t care. None of us do.” He nodded and turned, falling out the back of the plane into the night air. He could hear screams around him, but didn’t know where they were from. Maybe from the plane, which had suddenly disappeared. He stared up at the sky, the cloudless sky, and found one pinprick of light in the far distance to concentrate on. He didn’t know where they were flying, or how long until he landed. He only knew that he was approaching terminal velocity quickly. He tucked his legs and arms into a cannonball pose and stared up at the sky as the air about him grew warmer as he drew closer to the earth.

 _ **mAybe… tHiS iS wRoNG. We** **shOULD figHT. I ShO** uld_ _fight. Fight for her. But I’m already jumping. What can I change now?  Damn it. I’m so very very sorry. You were always the best part of my life. I love you, Jemma._

But you always wake up in a dream before you hit the bottom. Fitz didn’t. He ploughed straight through the ground and into hell. In the echoes of the impact, he could hear Jemma sobbing still. He wished she wouldn’t do that. Not when he couldn’t help her. Staring back up through the layers of earth towards the dark sky, he locked onto the last, bright star and whispered a quick prayer to it. Then it winked out.


	6. Circle Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is unraveling, lost in his own mind's most torturous scenarios as he struggles to hold on to sanity.

Fitz didn’t like the look of the place. It was nondescript, the kind of place where the horror was in what was done, not where. He quietly tested his bonds, but they were secure, and beeped when he ran his fingertips over the edges of the electronic keyhole searchingly. He could hear a distinct clicking from edges of the blackness surrounding him, clicking that sounded like a memory he had from his earliest days at school. In front of him stood a man dressed in military garb, but it wasn’t Ward or Tippet, but looked like they did, straight and tall and unmoving, except for the eyes, which darted everywhere. He studied the man, aware that there was another one behind him. Under his scrutiny, the man straightened imperceptibly, then nodded in obsequious fawning to Fitz’s direction.

“He’s been silent since we brought him in, Madame Viper.” There was a slight chuckle from over his shoulder, and then the guard nodded again and saluted.

“Hail Hydra!” He snapped his heels together and nodded, then moved away from the circle, his footfalls quickly followed by the man behind him. Fitz waited, but there wasn’t any movement. He could tell there was someone there, but to show the fear he was feeling would have been to give them what they wanted. There came that click of heels on concrete again, and a hand moved around to caress his head, tilting it down at the neck and running fingernails down his spine. A stinging slap on his buttocks made him jump and realise that he was naked, tied to a stool. The usual fog that had covered his brain in the last few weeks was still there, denying him his usual quick thinking. The clicking that was high heels on hard flooring sounded again from behind him, and he could feel nails scraping suddenly along his shoulder blades as the woman moved around in front of him. He stared at the black and green emblazoned boots as they wound up around thighs and hips that seemed to want to come straight out of a porn video and further up to a pair of displayed breasts over a leather corset that had his heart suddenly hammering in his chest until he saw the face framed in loosely draped brown locks that were so familiar that he nearly started to hyperventilate.

“Hello, Fitz…” crooned Jemma Simmons, straddling his proffered lap and pushing herself up against him, making the nervously naked nerd stammer to himself as she rubbed against him, snake like. “We need to talk…”

* * *

 

“You’re quite intuitive, you know. I’m almost certain that you know what I’m thinking…” Fitz stared at her, at what she was wearing, and came to the conclusion that he’d never known her a day in his life. For once, the stuttering affect she had on him meant that he had time to think. To come to terms. But she was straddling him in things that would make a Vegas stripper blush and he couldn’t think for a moment.

“I like it when you look at me like you want to do things to me, Fitz… I wonder what it would be like… if you’d let out all the things you’d like me to do, and like to do to me, if maybe things were different…” She trailed off thoughtfully, rocking backwards and forwards on his lap and staring at his reddening face.

“I know you’ve got that darkness in you, Fitz… I know what you did to Ward.” His denials died on his lips as she laughed and leaned forwards, nibbling softly on his ear, moving a hand down between her thighs and grabbing him. Fitz shifted in the seat, unable to stop the moan of pleasure before stoically firming his resolve. She looked down and then rubbed her thumb across his head and Fitz twitched in her grip, but didn’t moan.

“Tell me about SHIELD, Fitz,” she moaned softly, so close to his face. She rocked her hips and pushed him against her laced crotch as she did so. Jemma moaned in his ear and he pulled back, gritting his teeth and turning his head away. Jemma grabbed his chin and jerked it back towards her.

“This isn’t an interrogation, Fitz, it’s a choice. SHIELD and Coulson are letting you hurt, and I wasn’t going to let them do it anymore. Do you know what I can do here, Fitz? What we could do? A flick of my fingers,” she whispered, dragging them across the eye of him, making him jerk in her grip and twisting her thick, red lips into a smile of pure pleasure and power.

“It's all it would take, and you’d be back in the lab, better than what you were before. Hydra has access to biochemical enhancements that can have your synapses repaired in a matter of hours. You and I in the lab again, better than ever…” She trailed off and kissed him slowly, deeply, and he didn’t resist, kissing her back with everything he had, every ounce of passion he’d ever withheld from her. Jemma’s hands filled his hair and she sighed happily against him. The kiss faded until both of them rested their foreheads against one another, catching their breath. Jemma kissed him briefly again, then again, and held him to her, pressing his face into her chest as she held him.

“Just tell me what you know of Coulson’s plans, and what SHIELD is doing, and it will all be yours. I’ll be yours…” Fitz sighed against her chest, his eyes closed as he thought about the past, and how they’d enjoyed their time together, her innocence and compassion and how she mothered him and how she was the best part of him and always had been.

“I can’t refuse the opportunity. I just can’t.” Jemma nodded encouragingly at him and he smiled at her, a tear coming down his face. He sniffed.

“Hydra took Ward. They poisoned him until he was able to betray someone that looked up to him, wanted to be him. I was in awe of who he was, but who he was was a Hydra suit. A character that a Hydra whore played. And now, even if I could have ever forgiven that kind of betrayal, they’ve taken someone who was pure and good and all the best parts of life itself. And they made her into something hateful. Another Hydra whore.” Jemma pursed her lips and slapped him, hard, but Fitz barely felt it. She slapped him again and again until he reached up and grabbed her hand. She screamed and hissed at him, a slightly forked tongue coming out of her lips.

“Hydra though, have now given me an opportunity. SHIELD will always be there, with people like Coulson standing tall and ready to help. They won’t go away. They won’t back down. If the world turns it’s back on SHIELD, then SHIELD will work in the shadows. That’s what you do when you don’t do something for recognition or reward. You do it because it’s the right thing to do. And here, you’ve given me an opportunity. I will NEVER tell you about SHIELD. You’ve given me the one opportunity, maybe my last, to stick it right to you slithering worms in the best way I can. Helping your enemies to outwit, outmaneuver and outgun you in any and all ways. So listen, Viper, because I’m going to say this loud and proud. Fuck you, Hydra. Fuck you. You’re nothing. You were born something and now you’re nothing. You’re a shadow of what you were. And that shadow you’re slinking back into is the shade from the tremendous boot that’s about to stomp down and crush you sons of bitches once and for all. The standard issue lace up kick ass boot of SHIELD.”

He felt proud. Strong. Better than he had in a lifetime. Jemma straightened from her fearful crouch and nodded at him, then pulled a gun up from her hip. She did it slow, and he had time to scoff at the fact that it was a classic revolver, six shooter. It seemed out of place, and when it went off, he was still struggling with the fact that she’d use something so ridiculously old fashioned. He hit the ground still wondering why she’d used it when she walked past him, away from him.

There was no roof anymore, at least he didn’t think there was as he lay there, fuzzily thinking that it seemed so strange, that he knew there was a night sky above him. But that there were no clouds and no stars. No stars at all.


	7. Circle Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost in his own mind, Fitz can't hold on any longer. He can't endure. He can't go on. Only one thing can save him. But how can he trust that she's there to save him when he doesn't even know what's real anymore?

There was smoke everywhere, and everything was out of focus. It was some kind of stinging, horrid acid in the air, cloying and thick around him. Everywhere were blistered blacks and reds, the lab ruined in some kind of explosion. Out of the mist, she came, through that dark, smoky hell towards him. Curled horns atop her head and a forked tongue that flickered through black, cracked lips at him. It bore half of Jemma’s face, soft skin burned away black to her skull, but leering horribly through it all, that diagonal slash of skin still soft and smooth somehow. She moved sinuously, undulating against the air in front of him as though she were dancing, in his head. She laughed, but it had a wicked edge to it’s harshness.

Leather strips and burned cloth bound her body, showing tantalizing glimpses through the tatters of her body. Fitz tried to focus, but the smoke hazed around her for a moment, obscuring her, then she was on him, and he could feel the scales and burned crispness of her skin and claws as she ran her tongue up the side of his face and laughed evilly. Beyond himself, Fitz couldn’t stop the sob that escaped him at the pure evil emanating from the thing wearing Jemma’s body.

“What to you want?” Jemma’s head tilted and she smiled at him, leaning close and splitting his shirt with her claws, revealing bruised skin that showed scars from her claws as though this had been going on for lifetimes. Fitz’s head swam. Maybe it had.

“Want, Fitz? I don’t want anything much… just to play.” It was Jemma’s voice that did it, that broke him. Jemma’s sweet tones coming out of this horrid creature crushed him, collapsing his resolve and loosing tears that he couldn’t hold back.

“What are you doing?” She laughed as he tried uselessly to steady his voice. She looked around, showing him the empty ruins of the lab and shrugged, lifting her breasts out of her top teasingly as she did so. Her ruined face took on a look of innocence and she bent down, showing him what the rags concealed in a move suddenly sensual.

“Anything I want… there’s no one here to stop me…” Her face suddenly morphed into a reptilian mess as she stuck her tongue out again to lick at him, and Fitz felt himself drifting from the numbing fear. He was losing himself.

“You’re going to break, in here, sweetie, and I’m going to watch and be there through it all, making sure you know that you’re alone.”

“Simmons… Jemma, please…” He begged, as she toyed with his open stomach, sliding her claws in and twisting, breaking him open. He was so numb from the pain he could barely feel the individual horror, just the steady pain, in his stomach and in his head. He couldn’t concentrate anymore and the demon in front of him slapped him, bringing him back into focus for her, for her smile showed the sharp teeth she brought close to his ear, gnashing and snarling in whispers of tantalizing quiet.

“Please, what, Fitz?”

“Kill me…”

“NO!!!” came the sudden shout, echoing through the lab and confusing him. It hadn’t been the demon, who had faded somewhere to an amorphous mass in front of him, a pressure on his body. The denial had come from far away, too far away to make sense of now. He looked down at his stomach, and saw that he was healed, ready for the demon to tear at again, and felt that wrenching sob shake his shoulders in frustration and helplessness. He could feel her touching him, hands on his cheeks and shoulder and holding his hands, but he was too tired and things weren’t what they were with him. He’s not what he was. He felt like closing his eyes in the hot ruins of the lab, the smoke like hellfire burning in his vision, blurring everything.

“That team doesn’t need you anymore. You’re no good to them.” The demon suddenly appeared, still straddling him, arms around his shoulders and forked tongue in his ear. Struggling to care about consciousness, he nodded.

“I know they don’t need me. I need them.” The demon nodded, laughing and pressing her breasts against his face, but he barely cared and the demon laughed again as he lost more and more of himself to the smoky red haze around them.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know.” There was a sudden pressure on his shoulder, but the hand he expected to see isn’t there. It squeezed again, almost, but not quite, reassuring. Strengthening. Except there was no one there to be reassuring. No one to give him strength, to help him. It was just wishful thinking. This demonic hell was his reality.

“I’m losing my mind.” It was almost friendly, matter of fact between them, though the demon seemed to enjoy what she was saying, whereas Fitz was just accepting it.

“You’re losing your soul, here, to me.” He shrugged, unable to care in that floating feeling of apathy and loss.

“I already lost her.” The demon moved forward, rocking on his lap and throwing Jemma’s hair around his face, capturing his face in a soft kiss of pure tenderness and feeling that didn’t make sense with what was happening.

“Your soul is mine,” smirked the demon in her leering half-Jemma smile. He felt the hopelessness levity him for a moment and he shrugged.

“It always was yours, Jemma.” There was sudden, desperate pressure on his hand, and he lifted it, but again, there was nothing there, just his hand. The flesh moved around it, as though something were squeezing it, but when he turned it, he couldn’t feel anything, and couldn’t make his hand move anymore. The dry heat around them that left no sweat on him suddenly dropped moisture on his cheek. He stopped and the red haze closed in as the water ran into his mouth and he tasted salt. Only he wasn’t crying. He looked up to see where it was coming from and the world swam around him. A moment of clarity burst like fireworks in the night as the dark world of the ruined lab and the demon faded away. Bright light broke into his vision as though a thousand stars had gone supernova together and suddenly everything screamed in pain. Fitz opened his eyes to the bright lights of the med lab and screamed as his whole body jerked in sudden white hot agony.

“FITZ!!”

The demon was on top of him and his vision took in the red haze of the lab again and he shook his head, trying to clear it, but his vision swam and the pain in his eyes and head robbed his concentration. The dull pressure behind his eyes was unbearable and he shut his eyes again, trying to breathe but then the demon was there, pulling his head back with a clawed fist in his hair and drooling on his face, her horrid appearance killing the simple beauty of Jemma. Her hot breath bathed his face and pain seared his senses. It leaned forwards and raked it’s teeth over his cheekbones and down his jaw line, flickering it’s tongue across the bloody flesh and throwing more acid into his face, which ate away and seared his nerve endings anew, sending more and more pain until he screamed long and hard in the pain. As the scream died away, he hoarsely tried to catch his breath, and his vision wavered again as he felt tears go down his cheeks.

“I just… want to die. I want to die.” His words and tone were weak, and the sensation of pain scoring his very being left him flailing in helplessness at the overwhelming agony. He could hear the demon cackling at him, cawing in victory, and he couldn’t disagree. He wanted to sleep, now. To just go away from all of this and forget about life, Jemma, everything. To not be weak anymore, to just sleep. It sounded so peaceful.

His left cheek, the unscarred one, caught a cool breeze across the tear track, and suddenly, he could feel himself slipping away in that tiny moment of relief from pain.

“Leopold.” Gentle, soft tone of Jemma’s voice. She never called him Leopold. Not unless she was telling him off. He’d never told her, but not even his mom had done it. He thought it was cute when she did it.

“I know you can hear me. You can always hear me.” He nodded slowly, feeling that sense of cold on his cheek and pushing his face into it.

“Jemma…” It was a weak croak, but he spoke nonetheless. There was a sudden sensation of happiness that left him battered, then the red haze snapped back.

The demon snarled at him with Jemma’s beautiful face twisted into a hateful visage, filled with viciousness that the real Simmons, his Jemma, would never know or be. It bared it’s teeth and snarled at him, slashing open his shirt and chest with equal ease and dug it’s claws into his slowly beating heart. He gasped, unable to scream as pain again blossomed over him. He felt every miniscule edged scale on it’s fingers as it’s claws pushed into his heart, and he tried to scream but couldn’t. His arms went limp as it began to pull the heart towards her teeth, and his breath left his body.

“Jemma,” he gasped, trying to push the words out to here, wherever she was. “I.. love…” His heartbeat stopped in it’s taloned clutches as the hellish vision darkened around him and his lips quivered, the sudden loss of heat around him making him feel ice cold. The demon’s face changed, the horror of it falling away. Glowing soft blue in the darkness, she smiled at him knowingly and held the sides of his face, close enough to kiss but locking eyes with him and suddenly holding him there, just with her eyes.

“I do love you, Leopold Fitz. And I want you to come back to me. We’re not done. You didn’t give up with Garrison threatened to kill you. You told him to bugger off. You didn’t leave me in the med lab, we got through it, just like we always do, together. And you bloody well won’t give up now, you stubborn, wonderful man. Remember, Fitz. Together. We’re not finished yet. Remember how strong you are! You promised me we’d see all this through together! We’re not done!”

He latched onto her words and his vision cleared for a moment, and the bright light was back, searing into his eyes, but this time there were vague shapes and sensations around him. A hand on his shoulder, another holding his hand and another at his head. Jemma in front of him, staring into his open eyes, her own glistening with tears. He heard Skye gasp in shock, as he locked eyes with Simmons, but Jemma just smiled, encouraging.

“We’re not done.”

“No-not… done…” he managed. His hands clenched and suddenly he realized what the pressure was. It was Skye’s hand. The hand on his shoulder gripped him again and he knew Coulson was there, too. It was May’s calloused hands at his temples, supporting his head. And Jemma, his Jemma, in front and urging him on, urging him to fight. But to fight what, was the question. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t focus. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be fighting.

The red haze swept in, and he surged up from the chair, throwing the demon back away from him. The black chains that had somehow been holding him down fell away like encrusted sand, melting away from him as soon as he pushed against them. The demon hissed at him, backing away through the lab as he breathed heavier, strengthening himself with each breath as he wasn’t dead. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists beside him, moving the demon out of the lab stubbornly.

“Not done. Not done. Not done,” he uttered with each step, his conviction growing. The demon kept backing away from him, and he could feel the lab righting itself behind him as he pushed the red haze away. Against the door, the demon began to push back against him and he steeled himself and pushed. The demon was speaking to him, but he didn’t listen, just took a deep breath and pushed against it with all he had, pushing it out of the lab with a screamed war cry.

“Jemma!” The demon broke apart and the red mist followed suit, sinking away and leaving the lab clean and clear around him. The lights flickered on suddenly and Fitz looked around him. He stood tall and calm in the lab as though it were just cleaned and polished for inspection. For the first time in months, his mind raced and everything seemed back the way it was, though clearer and almost snappier. The analytical and deduction aspects of his personality cam back through and suddenly, he realized he was dreaming. But for the fist time since he could remember, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a dream. He breathed deeply and smiled as he closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was lying in a sweat soaked bed, surrounded by the team. Jemma stared at him in shocked happiness, and Fitz smiled at her and grabbed her, holding her against him with all the passion that he’d ever felt for her. Shocked at first, she melted against his kiss, wrapping her arms around his body and laying into him, deepening the kiss with a contented sigh. It might have gone on forever, but Skye gave a hoot of happiness and grabbed hold of the two of them, and then everyone was touching him. Coulson’s mild smile still full of pride and happiness and even May looking fondly on with relief clear on her usually unreadable features. Once he’d looked at everyone, he looked back at Jemma, who was smiling and touching her lips.

“How long was I gone?” He still stared at her, but asked the question openly. Jemma was holding his left hand like she wouldn’t ever let it go. He didn’t mind. He squeezed it back.

“Too long,” answered Coulson.

Skye laughed, clearly relieved. “I’ll second that.”

“How do you feel?” questioned May, ever the practical one.

“Weak. And strong.” He looked back at Jemma again. “And better than I’ve ever felt in my life.” She smiled then, pursing her lips to try and stop the giddy happiness and failing. Though she didn’t really mind, given the breadth of her smile.

“So, we’re… not done?” She licked her lips slightly and waited on his answer.

“Not by a long shot.”


	8. Circle Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seventh Circle of Fitz's Hell.  
> He's back in reality, and everything's real. Now he has to face it, and deal with it.  
> But then, the only thing that could get you through Hell is the one thing that might outlast it... hope.  
> (Corny, I know, but hey, you get that...)

“So how come you got the de-crazy debrief?” Skye smiled and shrugged, holding the cushion and beaming at him.

“There were only two people on the warm and fuzzy list, and May was busy.” Fitz smiled and looked back into his mug. Three marshmallows were acting like polar ice caps in his huge, American sized hot chocolate. It had a tinge of peppermint to it and he put it down, missing Simmons suddenly in the pain in his chest. He’d only learned to drink it because it was her favourite.

“So it was Ward. Why?” Skye looked away and the smile left her face.

“I’m not willing to believe the popular theory. Coulson believes he might be trying to make up for past mistakes.” Fitz scoffed in disbelief and Skye nodded. “I know, right? “Hey, man, sorry for nearly killing you, fancy a redo, all things over?”” Her Ward impression was tinged with hurt and guarded hope, despite her tone. She was too hurt not to be. He shifted in his seat.

“I don’t know what was real, and what wasn’t.” Her joking smile faded, and she shrugged.

“There wasn’t a whole lot of happened. Not outside of your head, anyway. You were fading in and out for a day, then started having nightmares, then night terrors. Two days after he broke in, you didn’t wake up that morning, but you were clearly dreaming and undergoing some sort of psychological trauma.” He nodded.

“You could say that…” Skye nodded, then winced as though she were about to tell him the worst possible news. That he’d talked in his sleep and people had overheard.

“When the situation got really dire, they put you in the dream machine.” Fitz nodded until it clicked and then he stared at her, horrified. Skye nodded again, much slower this time. “Yup.”

“Oh no.”

“Yup.”

“How much?” Skye’s lip twitched and he began to colour red.

“When you went all James Bond on Simmons… Tux and all and she was all… you know…Pretty much from there on in. Every sordid little...” Fitz held up a finger several times, trying to contain himself.

“Just… tell me that… that the… I know that… you can’t…” Skye smiled at him again then hummed the James Bond Theme Song. Fitz sighed.

“Laugh all you like. Go ahead… laugh it up.” Skye took his invitation and then hid her smile behind her slim hands.

“Okay,” she said, composing herself. “Seriously now though. What was so bad about that? All that stuff you were doing, you obviously enjoyed it…” Fitz shook his head and then looked at her. Skye was his friend. She understood people. She wasn’t cold like May, or superior like Coulson. She was his friend. He had a friend. Who was a girl.

“I don’t know if you understand what it’s like. Liking someone, and having them not like you back. You’re beautiful,” he gestured, but with a dismissive sneer. Skye opened her mouth, then tried again, and rolled her eyes.

“That’s so sweet and talented of you, Fitz, to be able to pay me such a compliment with such a bitchy, backhanded tone. Of course I’ve like a boy that hasn’t like me back. I’m a girl. It’s like a right of passage.” He shook his head and gave her a half smirk, almost his trademark snark that she was amused to find she’d sorely missed.

“Right, well, try being a geek and not exactly physically attractive. It happens all the time.” Skye laughed at that, but seeing he was serious, she stopped and picked up her mug, staring at him curiously.

“Okay…” she encouraged.

“That world, where all those things happen, I wake up from that, and every single time I do, Jemma doesn’t know I’m alive anymore. It’s torture. I’m utterly convinced that these things are happening, they’re more vivid than anything I’ve ever experienced, and yet, I have to wake up from them, and I want her so incredibly much that to not, to have that feeling taken away from you every single time you open your eyes, well…” Skye nodded slowly, and reached out a hand, touching his slim fingers as they clenched and unclenched around themselves.

“I’m sorry I laughed, Fitz. You’re right. I… I haven’t gone through that. I’ve always denied it and run along to the next idea. I’ve never had to deal because I’ve always run away because I’ve been too scared. But you can’t run away from her, can you?” He smiled ruefully and leant back, putting his mug down.

“You can’t run away from yourself, and she’s a part of me. Fitzsimmons is a whole.” Skye nodded. “And I don’t know if I can put that back together. It’s not a thing, a machine, or a gadget. It’s pain, and embarrassment, and all the things that you can’t fix with a screwdriver and a diagnostic enhancement tablet. I don’t know where to start. Do I say sorry for wanting her like that? Should I be ashamed of how I feel about her? The dreams were the natural response to the synaptic rebonding process, I understand that, but I still dreamt about things that would never… that I would never… I feel disgusted with myself, and if Jemma has seen those things, what the hell would she think of me?” Skye picked up her mug as he surged forward off the overstuffed chair in the lounge and began to stalk through the room. He ran his hands through his hair and held them high on the back of his hips like he used to. Skye wanted to hug him.

“I mean, I know a lot of that stuff was over the top, but yes, I’m a man, and I’m attracted to her on a biological level, and I respond, obviously, I mean, who wouldn’t, she’s got perfect stimuli, given the right environmental triggers…” Skye smiled at him, as he dissected his thoughts as surely as Simmons would a frog. She also wondered if anyone other than Simmons would find the phrase “She’s got perfect stimuli” to be so endearing. She had a feeling that it was something special between the two of them.

“When you woke up, she didn’t exactly run screaming from the hills, Fitz. She was very busy kissing you right back, as I recall…” Fitz stopped pacing at that, and rubbed the back of his head, goofily grinning, before he blushed. Again, Skye wanted to hug him.

“Yeah, that, I’m sure that was just… that she was…”

“Oh, she was, very happy that you were alive. But if that’s all it was, then a hug would have done. It did for the rest of us, remember?” Fitz gave a slightly goofier grin.

“She did kiss me back…” Skye scoffed.

“Sweetie, she didn’t just kiss you back, you two went full on Notebook kiss.” She smiled at him then, and reached out to push against him with her fist on his thigh. “You hound dog, you.” He gave a shy grin and rubbed where she’d punched him.

“So you think she’ll forget I’m a freak?” Skye took another sip of her mug before grinning.

“I think you should let the freak flag fly, man. Let your inner wild man out every now and again. I get it, I really do, you’re in the lab and everything’s clean and wonderful and great, and you think that people should just look at that as all there is to you. But that’s the thing with repression, Fitz. You bottle it all up and then it’s there, eating at you. You should express yourself a little bit more.” Fitz sat down, then stood up again and breathed slowly. Then he sat down again. And fidgeted.

“I… I don’t know how to do that. It sounds… difficult. And embarrassing.” Skye smiled again and stood up, then leant down and put her hand on his shoulder.

“That’s the thing, Fitz. With the right person? You don’t have to worry about it. It just happens. Like you and Simmons. You don’t have to think about what the other is thinking about. Because you already know.” Fitz nodded and stood up, returning her enthusiastic hug with awkward shyness. Skye winked at him in encouragement.

“Go on, young Padawan. Use what you have learned.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked out, her thoughts elsewhere. Back in the room, Fitz took a deep breath. He still had no idea what to say.

* * *

 

Simmons was in the lab when he found her. Not that he stopped looking when he found her. She wasn’t doing anything; she was standing there, staring at his work bench. He’d drawn a thousand sketches and diagrams over the years of his ideas and inventions. But it was at the top left corner that she stared. It was where they had a photo of themselves, graduation party behind them. They held one another in a kind of exuberant happiness that didn’t make sense, and hadn’t needed to. It had been the perfect day right up until Simmons had left with her boyfriend, a hero complex looking to go to the police academy. Fitz had barely even known, or he’d refused to believe. She reached forward and suddenly, he panicked and slid open the door, but it was too late, and she’d unpinned the photo. The folded piece of paper fell to the floor and she picked it up.

“That’s… you don’t need to look at that, it’s nothing…” She unfolded it like he was still having one of his nightmares, slowly and torturously. She stared at the carbon sketch for several minutes. It was of her, of course. Deep asleep and peaceful. The light from a window shone on her face, with rain trickling down the pane and illuminating her face in sparkles like diamonds. She smiled at it and sat down. Then folded the paper and put it on the bench. Fitz sat down too, knowing that this was already the “We’re better off as friends” speech. He knew she’d think that.

“It’s not going to work.” She took a breath but held it when he spoke, then slowly folded her hands in her lap. Then picked up the folded picture again and held it, almost possessively.

“What isn’t going to work?” Her crispness told him she was on edge, clarifying what he was meaning, or making sure he spoke in straight lines, as she’d have said.

“Us just being friends.” He gave a small, sad smile. “I’d ruin it.” She smiled then, ruefully, and relaxed somewhat.

“We’ve never just been friends, Fitz. We’re much closer than that. How do you think you could ruin that?” She smiled at him as though she’d solved the whole problem, and he shrugged, smiling at her matter-of-factly.

“By being so completely in love with you.” Damn Skye and her advice. This was not what he’d set out to say. Considering he’d had no idea what he was going to say, he still knew, this was far from what he wanted to say. Simmons was blushing, her cheeks colouring prettily.

“Fitz, it’s okay, I understand, the amount of time that we spend together, there’s bound to be emotional transference. Of course. Naturally. It’s only natural. It’s a difficult situation, I’ll grant you…”

“No, Jemma. It’s easy. I’m in love with you. Now you have to deal with it.” She bobbed her head from side to side like one of those plastic dolls, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. He reached across and put his hand on her clasped ones. “I’m not asking you for anything. I’m telling you how it is. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t even care about that. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be in love with. You’re smart. You challenge me at every step. You’re better than me in every single way. I can’t imagine for a second that you’d stoop to being with me, but you kissed me. So now you get me, being honest, as honest as I can stand, right here and now. You’re not perfect, I know that, but I can’t see how you’re not. I think you’re kind. Warm. Brave. Smart, strong, and all these adjectives that don’t even begin to measure up. You make me want to be a poet and know that I’ll never be good enough.” He smiled and stood up, nodding to himself. “One day, someone strong and tall and handsome and confident is going to come along for you. He’s a lucky guy, and I’ll hate him, and when he hurts you, I’ll hate him more, and when you go back to him, I’ll still be here, wishing. It’s not going to stop. You’re the love of my life, no matter how long or short I live for, and I’ve been in enough near death situations to know this. I love you, Jemma Simmons. Because you’re the only person on earth that’s even close to worth loving, to me.” She stood up, her eyes dark and wet, and turned away from him, staring down at her hands and Fitz took a deep breath, and turned to leave. He’d said it, whatever was in his heart, and that was a breath of relief, but he had to leave. It was time to leave, before she really broke him. He hit the button on the door and the glass slid open silently.

“Wait!” He turned slowly, and there she was, staring at him in disbelief.

“Close the door, please.” He did so, not looking at her, and then moved back around the table to stand in front of her. Whatever she was going to say, Fitz was determined that it wouldn’t change their friendship. Simmons had to know that as much as he wanted her, he wanted her in his life just as much, however it was. He just had to get it off his chest. She didn’t say anything for heartbeats that stretched long into minutes, and then it was interminable. She was staring at him, knowing what he was thinking, and then she stood up, facing him. That was all, just stood up and faced him. Fitz stared as her face got redder and redder.

“What are you waiting for?” He knew he shouldn’t have spoken, but it was a bit much to have her, looking as beautiful as ever, staring just within arms reach. He could have been holding her. Instead, he respected her. He waited.

“I’m bloody well waiting for you to kiss me.” She smiled then, and they were kissing. It wasn’t like it was in the med lab, desperate and life affirming, simply feeling and reacting. This was different. This was the forest in the rain. The beach in the storm. This was the cool breeze on a hot day. It was slow and just movement. It wasn’t sensual or wicked, or anything other than perfect. It was a kiss like a bite into an ice cold peach on a summers day. When it was done, Fitz leant back, his eyes still closed, and his smile of wonder echoing Jemma’s.

“Wow.” She nodded, biting her bottom lip in sudden shyness, but agreeing nonetheless.

“Fitz…” He lifted his eyes to her and she pursed her lips, biting down on the inside of them.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked, holding out his hand. Her smile grew wide and she fidgeted with the front of her jumper.

“We’re on a plane, Fitz,” she chastised him. He waved a hand in apathy.

“Then walk with me on the plane. Just walk with me. Two people who want to look at things that happen to be walking together.” She laughed at the absurdity of it, then held out her hand, which he took and kissed the back of.

“Okay. Lets start with a walk.”

* * *

 

Skye shut the door on her room and smiled to herself, having nodded to both Fitz and Simmons grateful bowed heads in her direction when she’s passed them on the way up to the map room. She couldn’t stop the grin at their held hands. Her computer beeped and Skye frowned, given that she’d put in on charge on the dock at her desk, not left it on her bedside table. She opened it up and a direct connection program started up. Skye reached for the escape key but Ward’s bearded face came into focus. He wore a light cotton shirt that showed he’d lost weight he couldn’t really afford to lose. There was a darker light to his eyes, too. Like an animal in the wild. Plus, reluctantly, she admitted that he looked really hot. But bad men can look good. He grinned, showing her the old smile that used to break the butterflies open in her stomach, and to her dismay, it happened again.

“How’s Fitz?” She debated tracking him, but dismissed it almost as soon as the thought occurred. It wouldn’t do any good. But there were other ways to work him. She shifted the laptop onto her lap and surreptitiously hit the record button with her outstretched finger, then settled back against the wall.

“He’s better, no thanks to you. It nearly killed him.” Ward nodded, a haunted look in his eyes as he rubbed his face, running his fingertips through his beard and over his chin, where her own fingers hand held his face when he was above her, holding her. She banished the thought from her mind, but that grin came back far too soon.

“That’s the way it works. It rebuilds the synapses throughout the brain, and everything fires at once. Told you he’d go through hell.” He was silent for a moment as he stared at her, seeming at once lost and tired.

“You should come in, and we’ll talk about it.” She hated herself for offering it to him, but she knew he wouldn’t take it. Until he looked like he was considering it. Her heart began to beat faster.

“Does he know it came from me?” Skye considered for a moment, before nodding. Ward would probably know anyway.

“Is that why you did it? So that he wouldn’t hate you for all eternity?” Ward’s face steeled before he leant back, throwing more shadow across his face, visibly withdrawing from her.

“I don’t care if he hates me. I did what I did. I can’t change that.” He was on the defensive already. Skye’s head dropped sadly.

“I miss you.” The words hit him like a blow and he sagged, looking away from the camera.

“No you don’t. You’re just trying to get to me. But I have what I need. The formula worked.” Skye scoffed and nodded to herself.

“Of course, you’d have an angle. He was your guinea pig.” Ward smiled coldly.

“Believe what you want. In the end, I got what I wanted.” She tilted her head, considering him, but he wasn’t triumphant, and he didn’t leer at her. He wasn’t trying to push her buttons. He was stating a fact, nothing more. He’d wanted her, he’d gotten her. That was all there was.

“Yeah. It’s funny about that. We logged your break in. You did it before we met up, Ward. You injected Fitz two hours before meeting me in that room, and you can say what you like, I might have said no. I nearly did. It was a gamble, Grant. What if I’d said no? Then you would have maybe killed Fitz, and for nothing. ” A different light came into his eyes, and he chuckled and shrugged.

“Fitz will always surprise you. He’s a lot stronger, got more resolve, than most people I know. As for you saying no, well, you had every opportunity to. And now, you know you didn’t have to. Technically, anyway. I just knew you wouldn’t let it be for nothing.” She locked eyes with him through the camera, staring straight at it.

“It WAS nothing. It was just that I’d do anything for the people I care about. Even risk fleas.” He stared at her for a long time, and she wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She might hate what he was, but she respected his abilities as an operative. He was dangerous. More dangerous than almost anyone she’d known.

Ward didn’t move, just stared at her vid picture, eyes roving over her face. Skye felt herself beginning to blush under his scrutiny.

“At least now I know. I wasn’t sure before, but I think I can safely say it now.” She narrowed her eyes, waiting. He lowered his head to her, acknowledging her patience.

“You’re my weakness now, Skye. The last time I had a weakness, I put it on the bottom of the ocean. Stop playing games.” She leant forwards, knowing as she did so that her top was falling low and giving him an eyeful. Almost resentfully, she tilted her head in acknowledgement when he didn’t look.

“Come home, Grant. I love…” He slapped the laptop down, breaking the connection. Skye sighed and reached under her pillow, pulling out the soft leather jacket he’d given her, almost as an afterthought. She could still smell him on it. And knew that far away in a hotel room somewhere, she was in his thoughts. She didn’t know why he’d help to cure Fitz. Maybe to impress her. Maybe to defy her expectations. Maybe just to help Fitz because once, he’d been a friend. But he’d done it. She lay down and let her head rest on the sleeve and its smell of him. Maybe there was still something there. Someone there. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Far above her, Fitz and Simmons sat and spoke quietly, holding hands in the map room.

Happy. Together.

FIN


End file.
